Comp. Sir, I am beholding to you for your good Counsel.
Pett. No, Sir, you have paid me for ’t, but I hope you do not intend to follow your own.
Comp. What is that?
Pett. Why, you said you’d hang your self.
Camp. No no, I have thought better on’t, for I’ll go drink my self dead drunk, then wake again, wash my Face, and meet the Bride.
Pett. That’s well said, and I’ll accompany you, and wish you Joy.
Comp. Joy, Sir, I have it Sir already, in a good Estate got by a Chopping Boy.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Friendly solus.
Fri. Was ever Fortune like to this of mine? Who for the Smile of a vile simple Woman, have acted thus against my very Soul, all to please a Creature, whose next Command perhaps will higher mount, it may be light on my self, as now it did on Bonvile.